


that it will never come again

by Red (S_Hylor)



Series: Bingo Round 1 2019 [6]
Category: Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Afterlife, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Cataclysm: The Last Stand, Depression, M/M, Nightmares, Purgatory, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 12:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17960654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Hylor/pseuds/Red
Summary: Steve dies during the battle against Galactus.He finds himself in some kind of purgatory.He isn't the only one who is trapped there.





	that it will never come again

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Emily Dickinson's poem. The full first line of the poem is "That it will never come again, Is what makes life so sweet."
> 
> For my Stony Bingo square "Fix-It".
> 
> Thanks to [Judy_The_Dreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judy_The_Dreamer/pseuds/Judy_The_Dreamer) and [KittKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittKat) for the beta work.

He hadn’t meant it to kill him.

In all honesty, he hadn’t even thought about that being a possible consequence. All he’d thought about was fighting. Helping his team. Buying them some time. Causing a distraction.

He doesn’t know if he even succeeded in doing any of those things. All he remembers is jumping.

Falling.

And then nothing.

Nothing until this place.

It looks like a valley of some kind, jagged cliffs stretching up higher than he can see on either side. They just keep going until they fade out into the grey sky. At least he assumes it’s the sky. There’s no sun, moon or stars, just an endless expanse of grey that meets the cliffs and fades into darkness in either direction along the valley.

The valley itself seems to go on forever. Rocks are scattered across the valley floor; broken, shattered, twisted spears protruding from the ground,as though the earth had been torn open into a fresh scar, and Steve had somehow fallen to the bottom of it.

The only way he knows that he’s no longer alive is because he doesn’t hurt. He’s not tired. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this at ease.

Not ease.

Peace.

Like he can finally rest. The fight’s over.

He can go home.

He can feel it. The warmth of the sun on his face, the scent of cherry blossoms in the air, the sound of children’s voices call out to him.

_“Pa! Pa you’re home!”_

Gail’s standing in the doorway, smiling at him. He can hear Bucky whistling in the garden next door. Can see children running down the path to meet him, smiling faces and arms outstretched. Blond hair, blue eyes, looking just like him.

Stronger.

Faster.

Better.

Face red and vicious.

Impaled on the front of the teleporter jet.

_“Steve, come home.”_

Gail is smiling at him, holding a hand out towards him. The Red Skull nowhere to be seen.

_“Come back, darling.”_

The voice whispers behind him, soft and pained. Broken.

Steve whirls around, but there’s nothing behind him. Nothing but jagged rocks and broken stones. That voice though, he knows it. It makes him think of the smell of aged whisky, burgundy silk, laughing blue eyes and a knowing smirk. The stench of vomit, slowly encroaching death and cancer medication. The lost looks replacing laughter in those blue eyes. The name of a lost son that had never been his on the tip of his tongue.

A pain that Steve couldn’t touch; that they didn’t have time to work through, never dealt with, because Galactus had come to devour the earth, and they had had to stop him.

 _“Steve? Come home, Steve.”_ He can hear Gail calling out to him, behind him, calling him back to the sunlight and cherry blossoms and the son that would not grow up to become the Red Skull.

 _“Darling, please come back. I need you.”_ Then there’s Tony’s voice, whispering in his ear, the brush of a hand on his cheek, but there’s no one there. _“He needs you.”_

“Who—he? Who needs me?” He croaks the words out, there’s the taste of blood on his tongue, a sharp stab of pain, broken ribs piercing lungs and he can’t breathe. His ears are ringing, head pounding. Pain lances down his legs, bones shattered into a hundred pieces, then knitted whole again. His arms twist, the shield dropping from his broken fingers. Holding them up, they are straight and undamaged in front of his eyes. “Ton—”

Then he hears it. Further down the valley, somewhere beyond the darkness, behind the broken rocks. A voice. Tiny and scared, calling out into the blackness.

“Daddy! Daddy! Where are you?”

_“Pa! Pa, you’re home.”_

The blond-haired children, with blue eyes and flushed cheeks, once again not skinless and bleeding, call for him on the path behind him, beneath the cherry tree.

“Daddy! I’m sc-ared. I want t-to come ho-ome.” The tiny voice calls out, hiccuping with fear. There’s something familiar about it. Something he can’t place. It makes his heart ache and reminds him of laughing blue eyes and unrelenting grief.

_“He needs you, darling.”_

The urgency in Tony’s voice makes him scoop up the shield, fitting it onto his arm and running. He doesn’t stop. Even as he hears Gail call out behind him, hears the once again skinless children sobbing. He runs, vaulting over broken rocks and jagged outcroppings. Leaps over a chasm that opens up in the valley floor beneath him. He can still hear the tiny, hiccuping sobs coming from the darkness, growing closer. Growing quieter and more broken. Tiny lungs struggling to breathe past the enormity of his fear.

The dark starts to envelop him, shadows stretching longer behind the rocks. He trips over an outcropping, staggers but stays upright. Rocks scatter across the ground as he kicks them.

The hiccuping sobs suddenly stop. The silence that follows is unnervingly quiet.

“Hello?” Steve calls out, slowing his footsteps, willing his eyes to see beyond the edge of his field of vision.

There’s a gasp, another hiccup and a clatter of stones, tumbling down from a cliff face to Steve’s right, just beyond the edge of what he can see. The shuffle of footsteps indicates movement before he’s able to pick out the shape in the gloom. It’s on a ledge about ten feet up, carefully edging its way around the cliff face, letting out small hiccuping breaths as it goes.

Taking a careful step closer, Steve narrows his eyes, trying to peer through the darkness, trying to see more details of the shadowy figure. It’s small, the size of a child around five years old. He braces himself, half-expecting to see another skinless face peering out at him through the dark. Instead there are tear stained cheeks, quivering lips and a face that seems familiar even though he’s sure he’s never seen it before.

The child, a boy, rocks forward like he’s going to throw himself right off the ledge before swaying back and pressing himself flat against the cliff. He’s naked, skin prickled with cold, there are scrapes and bruises in places.  His eyes are wide, fear starting to give way to relief.. “Steve!”

Hearing his name jerks him to a halt. He half expects to see Gail and the skinless children waiting for him, but they aren’t. It’s just him and the child balancing precariously on the edge about ten feet in the air, who seems to know him.

_“He needs you, darling.”_

He isn’t sure if it’s Tony again, or just an echo from what he’d heard before. Stepping closer, peering up through the gloom, trying to pick out features that he might recognise. Dimples present even though his mouth is unsmiling. Dark hair cut short. Eyes wide and intent, staring as though into him, not at him.

“Steve?” The boy asks, voice wavering. “Where’s Daddy?”

_“Help him, darling, please help him. He’s so scared.”_

For a second he thinks he sees red and gold armour form around the child. Thinks he sees Tony out the corner of his eye, just when he jerks his head around to look there’s only darkness. When he looks back up at the boy he’s just as naked as he was before, starting to shiver.

“I want my Daddy, Steve. Where is he?” The boy starts to shake harder, until Steve’s scared he was going to shudder right off the edge. He crouches down, wrapping his arms around his knees, shoulders heaving as he starts to cry.

“Hey now, son, you’re okay,” Steve says, trying to keep his voice steady and non-threatening.

“Son? Daddy calls me that,” the boy hiccups, chin buried in between his knees.

It’s the last piece that makes it fall into place. The way he’d heard Tony talk in the past. The dark hair, the wide eyes. “Anthony?”

There’s the slightest hint of a nod, followed by a sniffle. Even with affirmation, Steve isn’t sure he understands it. Though when he looks at the boy, even through the gloom, all he can see is Tony. There’s no doubt in his mind that the boy is the same boy from Tony’s hallucinations, from his tumor; the boy he’d called son, the boy that had disappeared when Quicksilver had kidnapped Tony and pulled the Infinity Gem out of his head.

“It’s alright, Anthony,” Steve tries again, stepping closer until he’s right below the ledge. “You want to come down from there?”

The boy gives another stilted nod, then turns it into a shake of his head, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth as he looks down towards the ground. “I can’t. I can’t fly.”

Unhooking the shield from his arm, Steve sets it aside. As a bit of an afterthought he pulls off his gloves as well, dropping them to the ground before reaching both arms above his head. He can’t quite reach Anthony. “Jump and I’ll catch you.”

There’s a moment when Anthony seems to consider it before he shakes his head again. “I’ll fall. It’ll hurt.”

He’s never been great at reasoning with people, especially children. It’s one of his shortcomings, and not for the first time, Steve wishes he had an ounce of Tony’s charisma and bluff. He kicks the shield flat and the steps up on top of it. It only adds another inch or so to his reach, still well short of the ledge. “Trust me, kid, I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.”

Anthony stares at him, wide-eyed, then sniffs once again. Carefully he stands up, back pressed against the cliff face, knees shaking as he does. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he just tips forward and falls. Steve feels skin beneath his hands, weight pressing down on his arms and small feet slamming into his chest, but he manages to get his hands hooked under Anthony’s arms, controlling his fall until he brings the boy to a stop against his chest. His first instinct it to set Anthony straight down, but he doesn’t have a chance to lower him any further before tiny arms are wrapping around his neck and a small, damp face is pressed against his throat.

“Ste-ve,” Anthony hiccups softly, mumbling something else that might be a plea to go home.

Readjusting his arms, Steve gets one arm under the boy’s legs, supporting most of his weight, and trusting Anthony to hold on tight enough as he retrieves his gloves and shield off the ground.

“It’s okay, son, we’ll get you home,” Steve says as reassuring as possible, though he doesn’t know if he believes it at all. Afterall, he suspects that this is some kind of purgatory. He’s here because he’s dead. Anthony, he supposes, essentially met the same fate. Tony had described him as a separate conscience, and parallel processor, as though Steve would have any clue what he was talking about.

He’s not at all sure how they are meant to get out of this place, knows that he probably doesn’t deserve to himself. But Anthony is a child, no matter what his roots are, he’s a child, and baptised or not, no child deserves to be damned after death.

“I’ll get you home.” He says again, with more determination. He could do this last mission.

 

In the end Steve loses track of how far they walk. Even when he retraces his steps he can’t find the place that he’d found himself in at the beginning. No matter how far he walks he doesn’t rediscover the scent of cherry blossoms and the feel of the sun on his skin. He doesn’t hear Gail calling to him again. Part of him knew that he’d lose all of that as soon as he’d turned and ran towards Anthony. More disappointingly, he doesn’t hear Tony’s voice again either.

Somewhere along the way, Anthony’s grip on his neck loosens, and he can hear the soft, congested snores the boy starts emitting. He estimates that it must have been at least three hours they’ve been walking and the scenery hasn’t changed, it’s just one rocky outcrop after another. He doesn’t feel tired though, not even the slightest tinge of fatigue that he’d usually feel, nor does he feel hungry or thirsty.

When Anthony starts to stir again, Steve decides it’s time to take a break. Kneeling down he sets Anthony down with only a small whine of protest from the boy, who stands there and rubs at his eyes groggily, blinking around the dark canyon.

After a moment Anthony sucks in a shuddering breath and his bottom lips starts to tremble again. “This isn’t home. Where’s Daddy?”

Dumping his shield and gloves onto the ground, Steve reaches out, gripping the boy’s shoulder gently. “Home’s a long way away, buddy, it’s going to take a while longer to get there.”

Anthony stares at him for a moment, then blinks and nods. He kicks at ground with his toes, glancing around again. “Okay, Steve.”

When he thinks that it’s safe to let go, Steve drops his hand and rocks back up to his feet. There’s nothing around them except rocks and the dirt ground they stand on. Not a trace of water or wood, nothing at all with which to make a fire. Not that he feels particularly cold, he doesn’t think he feels much of anything, but when he glances back down at Anthony, the boy has his arms wrapped around himself and is still as naked as he had been before.

Cursing under his breath for not doing anything about that before, Steve starts tugging at the clasps on the armour, pulling them loose until he can pull the top half off over his head. He drops that to the ground along with his shield, then moves to tug his undershirt off as well. Shaking it out, he crouches back down in front of Anthony and holds it out. “Here, let’s get this on you.”

There’d been a time, when he was younger, and had a little brother, that he’d been better with children, and certainly better at dressing them. It takes two attempts to line Anthony’s hands up with the armholes, and more effort than it should to get his head through the collar. When Anthony’s head finally pops free, hair an absolute mess, the shirt hangs down past his knees, his hands lost somewhere in the sleeves.

Reaching for one sleeve to start rolling it up, Steve gives Anthony the least frustrated smile that he can. “Would think you’d never got dressed before.”

Anthony just blinks at him several times, then slowly shakes his head. It makes Steve feel guilty. He has no idea what form Anthony took on in Tony’s head, or how he’d looked, but he should have known that an incorporeal child wouldn’t have any experience with getting dressed.

Reaching out he ruffles the boy’s hair, trying another smile, more reassuring this time. Anthony smiles back, wide and bright and so like Tony that it makes Steve’s heart ache. Even if he can find a way to get Anthony out of this place, he knows he’s not going home himself.

 

They rest for a while, Steve crouched with his back to the canyon wall, shield leaning against his knees, searching the gloom around them for signs of anything that might be out there. Anthony sits next to him, playing with stones that he’d collected together, building carefully balanced structures out of them, only to huff in frustration and knock it over when there is obviously something about it that displeases him.

They stay there until Anthony starts to get antsy, the rocks no longer holding his interest. Since he doesn’t feel like he needs to rest anyway, Steve picks the boy up again, holding him against one hip, carrying his shield in the other hand. Anthony seems content to be carried, one hand curled around the collar of Steve’s uniform, head swiveling this way and that as he looks around them.

The scenery doesn’t change though, the canyon stretches on and on, appearing out of the darkness in front of them only to disappear back into it behind them. When Steve notices a haphazard pile of stones near the canyon wall and a child’s handprint in the dirt beside them, he knows they really are in purgatory.

Anthony must notice them too, because he wraps both arms around Steve’s neck and pulls himself closer. Face pressed close to Steve’s eyes locked he whispers solemnly, “We’re going in circles.”

There’s no point in lying, Steve knows that. “It would appear so.”

Anthony shifts slightly, tucking his head against Steve’s throat, but twisting so he’s facing forwards. “What do we do now?”

Tony had once told him that insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. But then again, being stubborn had gotten him places before. He shifts his gaze towards the canyon wall. “What if we try going up?”

Anthony swallows loudly, arms tightening their hold on Steve. “We can’t fly.”

He pats the side of Anthony’s leg, taking a step closer to the wall, scanning it for good hand holds. “To be honest, buddy, I don’t have the best track record with flying. But we can climb.”

 

He can’t take both Anthony and the shield, so he leaves that lying next to the little pile of rocks the boy had been playing with. Anthony climbs onto his back, wrapping his arms around his neck. There’s a length of cord in his utility belt that he uses to tie the boy in place, looped around the two of them and tied with a quick release knot just in case. He doesn’t want to risk the boy slipping. Facing up to the canyon wall, he reaches up for the first handhold.

“Ready for this?” He asks over his shoulder, feeling Anthony nod in response. Jamming his toes into a crevice he pushes off the ground and grabs another handhold higher up.

There are enough hand and footholds that climbing isn’t exactly difficult, and like before he doesn’t fatigue. The climb is endless though, and he’s all too aware of every movement that Anthony makes against his back that threatens to throw him off balance. He keeps climbing, pulling them higher and higher, though he finds himself not wanting to look down, just in case he finds that they haven’t gained any ground at all. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been climbing when he notices that it is getting lighter around them. Bracing himself against the cliff, he tilts his head back, looking up. He feels Anthony lean back as well, making him dig his fingers into the cliff face even tighter to compensate.

Above them there’s a light, radiating from a fixed point, though how far away it is, Steve can’t determine. It brings a faint buzzing in the air, that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his hands sweat inside his gloves. Anthony clings tighter to him, tiny hands clenched together and digging into his throat, making it hard to breathe.

“What is it? Steve? What is it?” Anthony asks, his voice rising and falling, getting shrill with fear.

He doesn’t know. He’s not sure what it is. Doesn’t know if he should keep climbing up towards it, or start descending. He feels dizzy,  though he doesn’t know if that is the buzzing in the air or the way Anthony is pressing on his windpipe.

The light gets brighter, maybe closer, he’s not sure. There’s a sudden, sharp pain in his arms, making them buckle and he hugs the cliff, trying to hold on. His chest aches, and every breath he struggles to take feels horribly wet.

“Anthony,” he croaks, starting to feel his fingers slip. “Anthony, buddy, let go.”

The boy does, his arms coming away from Steve’s throat at the same time Steve feels his fingers break and crack and lose purchase on the cliff. He feels the jolt as Anthony’s weight drops entirely onto the cord tying them together. Hears the boy scream as they tip backwards away from the cliff.

With one hand he reaches behind him, broken bones grating in his arms as he grabs hold of Anthony, the other hand scrabbles at the cord, pulling at the quick release knot until it comes undone. For a sickening moment he feels the boy come away from his back, thinks he’s dropped him entirely, before he pulls his arm back, bringing Anthony around in front of him, pulling him to his chest. Wrapping both arms around his body, one hand cradling his head, Steve clenches his eyes shut and waits for impact.

He hears the sound of his body hitting the ground before he feels the impact. The sickening thump and the audible crack of bones breaking. It feels like his skull cracks open, ribs break and pierce through his lungs, his legs shattering. He can’t move, knows that he isn’t moving, but he feels movement against his chest, feels Anthony shift, feels the way elbows, hands and knees all push his broken bones around, but he doesn’t care.

All that matters is that Anthony isn’t hurt.

A small tear streaked face appears in his line of sight, small hands grabbing his shoulder and shaking the broken parts of his collar bone.

“Steve? Steve, get up. Steve, please.”

He hears, like an echo, another voice in the background.

_“Steve, Steve, wake up. Please, darling.”_

There’s a light again. Not above them like before, but to the side, so close. It feels warm, and safe, and every instinct Steve tells that he should go towards it. Except he can’t move. The fall should have killed him, except he knows he’s already dead. He’s not sure he can die again.

Anthony lets out a sob above him, shaking him again. “Please get up, Steve.”

He smiles, feels it real and genuine on his lips as he looks at the boy. Even if he can’t go home, he knows the boy can. “Go home. Your dad’s waiting for you.”

Anthony twists, turns his face towards the light. “Daddy?”

_“Anthony?”_

He can hear Tony’s voice now, clearer, and he knows that he’s almost succeeded at his final mission.

There’s a buzzing in the air again, a whine, long and high pitched that makes him want to cover his ears, but he can’t move his arms.

“Go on, buddy. Go home,” he croaks the words out, tasting like copper. There’s a sudden sharp pain in his chest, that jolts through him, lights him up.

_“Steve, don’t you dare. No giving up now. You’re so close.”_

Distantly he’s aware that the boy has gone, can see him running towards the light, disappearing when it closes around him. Then he can hear his voice calling back to him.

_“Steve, come on. Please?”_

There’s another voice there too. So close. He thinks he can almost see them, standing there in the light. Tony, with his son in his arms, the tears on their faces. Tears of joy. Finally reunited.

Then Tony stretches one hand out towards him. _“Come on, darling. I can’t come and get you. You have to come home. I need you.”_

There’s a small pile of rocks lying near him, strewn haphazardly as they’d fallen. Next to them is a tiny handprint pressed into the dirt. With effort he rolls over, reaching out and placing his own hand next to it.

_“He needs you.”_

With one last look at the two handprints in the dirt, Steve turns back towards the light. Broken bones or not he reaches out, digs his fingers into the dirt and starts dragging himself towards the light.


End file.
